


Two Sides of the Same Coin

by Minniemoggie



Category: Lord of the Rings (Movies), Lord of the Rings - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Angst and Humor, Friendship, Gen, Spanking
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-03-29
Updated: 2012-03-29
Packaged: 2017-11-02 16:57:39
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,128
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/371283
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Minniemoggie/pseuds/Minniemoggie
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A story told in flashback that deals with Legolas and Gimli's father Lord Gloin's meeting in Imladris and how Legolas learns some important lessons in how to conduct himself both from Lord Elrond and Lord Gloin himself</p>
            </blockquote>





	Two Sides of the Same Coin

Title: Two sides of the same coin

Author: Minnie

Beta: Holly

Disclaimer: I have never been called Tolkien and am unlikely to be mistaken for a genius!

 

A/N: Elrond is in an uncompromising mood in this story and not inclined to be forgiving of a certain princeling’s conduct, this does not make him a nasty elf-lord  just a p****d off one!

 

Two Sides of the Same Coin

 

The Fellowship or what remained of it was spending an afternoon in the newly planted Queen’s garden. As they chatted and gossiped together, more than one set of eyes turned towards the door that led into the main hall.

It was the elf who heard the sound of footsteps first and he sat up, tipping his head to one side. His companions also sat up and an air of expectation was palpable.

“Your majesty,” the guard handed over a leather travel pouch and departed.

Aragorn, who had accepted the satchel, hastened to unbuckle it, knowing that his friends were all anxious to see what was within.

Sorting through the collection of letters and parchments, Aragorn smiled at the expectant faces

“It seems we are all in luck today my friends; there are letters here for everyone.”

Handing out the letters, he watched as smiles filled their faces. Contact from home was something they all looked forward to and as each member of the Fellowship collected their mail they went off to a quiet place to read and catch up with all the news from family and friends.

It was quite some time before everyone gathered together again to exchange stories and news. Faramir, who had spent the afternoon with the Fellowship, was startled when Gimli, having filled in everyone as to what was happening in Erebor, gave the elven prince a wink.

“And my father sends his regards, and says to tell you that he hopes you have remembered your promise back in Imladris to keep a bridle on that sometimes unruly tongue of yours.”

Legolas rolled his eyes at this admonishment although everyone else laughed.

 “He’s never going to let you forget that is he?” Frodo chuckled.

Rather than take offence, the elf grinned, even if it was somewhat self-consciously.

Sensing a tale, Faramir demanded to hear where and when Lord Gloin had made Legolas’ acquaintance.

It was left to Aragorn to begin the story. “It was just after the council in Imladris …”

******

 

Legolas’ knuckles turned white as he gripped the elegant balustrade that ran around the edge of his balcony.

At first glance there was no reason for the tension in the archer’s hands; the beauty of a late autumn morning lay before him and the elven haven of Imladris was known Arda wide as a place of peace and tranquillity.

Drifts of brightly coloured leaves, driven by a light breeze, danced across the gardens where roses and lilies still bloomed. The dawn sky was streaked with high drifting cloud and the warmth in the rising sun was sufficient to make it a perfect morning to be out of doors exploring the surroundings of the last homely house.

How the prince of Mirkwood wished that was the case for him today…. But it was not. His hands clenched once more. He was waiting to be summoned before the master of Imladris and he knew that meeting was going to be an unpleasant one.

Why, why, why, had Lord Elrond chosen that particular moment to walk into the Hall of Fire last evening?

And why, why, why had he chosen to make such an unforgiveable remark about Lord Gloin just as he did?

It was not as if he disliked the old dwarf. Gloin had shown himself to be a reasonable sort, especially for a dwarf, happy to reminisce on the cooperation between the mountain and the wood at the time of the battle of the Five Armies and Legolas had heard him speak of Thranduil in quite complimentary terms. Legolas flushed as he thought back on his words; Gloin had not deserved to be so treated.

It was the son, not the father, who Legolas hated. Gimli son of Gloin was loud, brash, and outspoken in his disapproval of the elves of Mirkwood. Indeed, one of the prince’s warriors had reported only that morning that they had overheard Gimli speaking of their king disparagingly, calling his father the magpie of Mirkwood.

Incensed, Legolas had tried to find the culprit but Gimli was nowhere to be found, so Legolas had turned his anger onto his parent instead. He should not have done it and he knew it; such an action reflected badly on his own manners. He knew his father would consider it at the very least a serious breach of etiquette.

To castigate one for the sins of another was all but unforgivable. It was also something he had taken umbrage at as far as Gimli Gloinson was concerned. Now he had done the same thing …

A slight tremor ran through his slim frame as he called the look he had been gifted with by Elrond when he had overheard his tirade. Legolas had heard Estel quote the Dúnedain saying ‘If looks could kill’ many times; now he knew what such a look entailed.

In his mind’s eye he relived the horrifying realisation that Elrond was not alone but was accompanied by the very Naugrim he had just insulted. Gloin had not spoken but his face told its own story and it was plain that he had been both hurt and offended; his dark eyes had caught Legolas’s own and it was Legolas who flushed and had to look away.

Elrond had not given him the opportunity to try and apologise, not that he was sure he could have found the words to do so in the face of such silent censure. Instead, he had been summarily dismissed and ordered to stay in his rooms until sent for.

That had been last evening; he had spent a sleepless night and now stood fidgeting as the pure sweet light of dawn crept into his room dispelling the night shadows.

He had dressed with especial care; a pale blue silk shirt, a longer than usual length midnight blue velvet tunic, his slim waist circled with a pierced Mithril belt. Beneath the knee length tunic were black breeches cut more loosely than his normal leggings; the breeches were tucked into soft doeskin boots.  He looked every inch a Sindar prince and felt like a worm!

 A sharp rap on the door caused Legolas to start and swing round, tugging his tunic into place, and smoothing his braids even as he called out for whoever was at the door to enter.

“Prince Legolas,” the Imladrin guard gave a brief bow. “Lord Elrond will see you now.”

Willing his voice to remain calm Legolas thanked the guard and before he could change his mind and follow his instincts to jump over the balustrade and run for the border, stepped out into the hallway. He was surprised to find the guard fall into step beside him and that surprise must have shown on his face for the elf explained.

“Lord Elrond gave orders that I was to escort you to his study Prince Legolas.”

“Oh!” Legolas swallowed hard then lifted his chin and squared his shoulders. “Then let us not keep him waiting any longer than we need to, shall we.”

The walk to Elrond’s study seemed never ending and yet was over all too soon; or at least that is how it seemed to the prince of Mirkwood as they reached the intricately carved doors. His escort paused and allowed him time to compose himself and tidy his already immaculate outfit. Then once he nodded, the guard rapped on the door and announced his presence.

Elrond’s voice sounded giving him permission to enter and with one last prayer to Illuvator for strength Legolas stepped into Elrond’s study.

xxxxx

“You may rise and reorder your clothing.”

It took a moment or two for Legolas to realize that the punishment had ceased and that he could open his eyes, which he had closed in the vain hope of shutting out the pain of his well-deserved chastisement. He become conscious of the fact that his breath was coming in short agonized bursts, as if there was insufficient air in his lungs to allow for his breathing; throbbing, insistent, excruciating pain flared, making him feel nauseous.

“I said you may rise, Thranduilion.”

He found it more difficult than he could have imagined easing his fingers free from the far side of Elrond’s desk. Tears streamed in uncounted numbers from his eyes, so much so that there was a pool of them on the surface of the desk, glinting in the early morning sunlight.

A shudder ran through this slim frame as he finally pushed himself upright. He hissed as the silk shirt that had been pushed well up his back slipped down to cover his blistered rump and only by biting down hard on his lip did he manage to prevent himself from crying out as the pain flared anew.

He gingerly reached down to draw up his breeches, grateful for his foresight in choosing the looser garment over his usual tight fitting leggings. Even with this bonus, wherever the velvet touched his skin it felt as if another fire had been ignited and where the welts from Elrond’s belt had crossed and re-crossed his backside, the pain was even more intense. Still, he could not stand with his breeches around his knees forever. Gritting his teeth he slipped the breeches up over his rear and fastened the ties with shaking hands. Then he smoothed down his tunic and stood upright, turning so he faced the lord of Imladris, before he expressed his regrets for his conduct the previous evening.

“There is much to admire in you Thranduilion,” Elrond told him, once Legolas had finished. “You faced your punishment with fortitude, and you did not try to avoid what was a just chastisement, all of which speaks well of your upbringing. Such determination and courage are both elements of your character that will stand you in good stead in the future. However, you will have to learn to curb your far too caustic tongue if you are to become what you wish to be.”

“I will try Lord Elrond.”

“Then I can ask for no more. Now, loathe, as I am to bring further pain, there are things that must be done before your penance can be said to be fully paid. Go, and wash your face and then we will make our way to the dining hall for break of fast. After first meal, you will accompany me to Lord Gloin’s apartments, where you will tender a proper apology to him.”

Legolas’s face mirrored his dismay at this news; he had expected the apology to Gloin, but to be made to attend first meal in his present state was a cruelty he had not foreseen. Yet, he knew better than to object or try to persuade Elrond to allow him to forgo the meal. It had been made very plain that any further ‘trouble’ would lead to him being sent home and then the chance of him representing his people on the Quest would be gone forever.

What was more he thought he knew the reasons behind Elrond’s decision to force him to go to the dining hall. His humiliation of Gloin had taken place in the Hall of Fire, under the eyes and ears of many of those who were present in Imladris for the Council. It was only right, therefore, that some of the consequences he faced should be in a public forum as well. He bowed his acquiescence and limped off to the small antechamber next to the study where there was water, towels and other necessities for personal hygiene.

Splashing cold water on his burning face, he stared into the small mirror above the wash stand and grimaced at what he saw reflected therein. His face was red, his eyes swollen and bloodshot. No amount of cold water was going to hide the physical signs of his recent chastisement and even if his face did not bear such scars, he would be unable to walk without limping and sitting…. He moaned at the very thought of it.

He took as long as he could to complete his ablutions, but knew that it would be plain to a blind dwarf what had happened to him once he entered the dining hall in the company of Lord Elrond.

He chose to walk behind Elrond rather than beside him, as he would normally have done. It seemed neither appropriate nor fitting given his present state of disgrace to walk as an equal with the lord of Imladris, and after a single questioning glance, Elrond had allowed him to do so and Legolas was grateful.

Despite his resolve not to falter, he hesitated as they reached the open doors of the dining hall, for he could already see that there were many folk seated at the various tables partaking of the excellent food on offer. His entrance in the company of Elrond would not go unmarked and up on the dais he would likely be the sinecure of all eyes.

As if reading his thoughts Elrond spoke.

“You may sit where you will. When we have both broken our fast, I will come to you and we will go up to Lord Gloin’s chambers together.”

“I will be ready.”

Legolas inclined his head respectfully as Elrond swept passed him into the dining hall. Legolas slipped in behind him, moving round the edge of the huge hall until he reached the furthest wall where a table laden with foods of all kinds were laid out, ready for guests to help themselves.

Although the idea of eating made him feel ill, Legolas knew he had to at least give the impression of normalcy. So he took up a plate and began to place fruit and bread upon it. Then he had to decide where he was to ‘sit’. First, he took the opportunity to check up on the denizens of the hall by looking back at them through the mirror that hung above the buffet table.

There were a group of dwarves huddled together on one side; they were alternately growling to each other in their foul language or sitting glaring at his back. He could feel their anger and disapproval for him from where he stood.

Many of the elves of Elrond’s household were also present, but Legolas did not feel he could sit with them, even if they would be prepared for him to do so. At the far end of the room was a small table that was mercifully empty; he could go there and if he sat facing the large windows, he would not have to see the looks of disgust, revulsion and disappointment that he was certain many in the hall were feeling.

Keeping his gaze firmly fixed on the far wall, he navigated the room without catching the eye of anyone else present. Once he had reached his goal he put down his plate and then wondered how he was to give the impression that he was actually sitting when in reality he could no more sit than fly.

By manoeuvring himself he found he could put much of his weight on his elbows and his right leg and knee, while balancing the whole with his left leg. This meant that his backside did not actually touch anything. Even then, the strain on his blistered skin was immense, but it was preferable to trying to sit. He turned his mind to thinking over the rest of his day. It was not likely to get better, but he hoped that it would not get worse, for Lord Elrond had decreed he was to spend it researching and then writing an essay on dwarfish history and traditions.

The thought of having to write ‘anything’ positive about the Naugrim was daunting in the extreme, a situation that would be all the more painful because he could not pick up a quill while using his elbows to keep his weight off his rear.

For now, Legolas was struggling to contend with the fact that many of the people in the dining hall seemed to find him fascinating. Through the reflection in the windows he saw that many eyes were turned towards him. Many conversations seemed to be focused on him and what had happened last evening, while conjecture on what had gone on between him and his host was rife.

Legolas felt his colour rising at the comments being bandied about. Some folk only whispered, others were loud enough for him to overhear them despite his trying not to. In the case of the dwarves, their comments were deliberately strident enough to attract his attention; it was an obvious attempt to elicit a response from him and it took all of his considerable will power to keep his tongue between his teeth.

Yet he had no choice but to persevere, because he knew he would not be allowed to leave until Elrond did and a quick glance told him that the lord of Imladris seemed very settled in his chair at the high table.

Legolas was wondering how long he could continue to ignore the deliberate provocation of the dwarven delegation when he was distracted by someone plumping down opposite him. He looked up in surprise, for everyone had so far avoided him, only to find Peregrin Took grinning at him.

“Mind if I sit here?”

“Of course not, Master Took, but …”

The youngest Hobbit tipped his head sideways to more closely regard him.

“Ach, I know well enough what you are about to say. You are in disgrace and being shunned by all these fine folk who ought to know better. Me…well I am in trouble often enough myself to know when a friend would benefit from my company. Oi, Merry, over here!”

Pippin waved at his cousin who obligingly changed course and carried the large tray he had been balancing over to the table.

“I can make him go away if you want me to,” Meriodoc grinned at Legolas as he unloaded what seemed to be an enormous amount of food.

“Nay, I welcome his company and yours. Please, make yourselves comfortable.” Legolas added this last a little self-consciously.

“Thanks.”

Merry climbed onto the bench next to his cousin, and then joined him in scrutinising the elf sitting opposite. “How are you?” he asked after a moment.

“I have been better,” Legolas grimaced.

Merry nodded his agreement.

“Aye, I reckon I wouldn’a want to fall foul of Lord Elrond either. Still, he’ll get over it I wouldn’t wonder. You just have to keep your nose clean for awhile.”

Legolas blinked.

“My nose?”

“It’s a saying we use back at home,” Pippin explained. “It means keeping out of trouble.”

“Then it is very apposite.”

“Huh?”

“It means appropriate Pip,” Merry told his cousin.

Understanding dawned on the Took.

“Oh, right. Look, here come Frodo and Sam. I knew they wouldn’a let us down. Come on slow coaches, our breakfast is getting cold.”

Frodo and Sam joined the table with nods and smiles in Legolas’ direction before clambering onto the benches on either side of him so that he was surrounded by Hobbits.

Behind Frodo came two elven servers carrying a pile of cushions which allowed the Hobbits to reach the table in comfort. Legolas eyed the feather cushions longingly for a moment and then looked away as they were passed around for the four Hobbits. A tug on his sleeve regained his attention,

“Can I do something for you Frodo?” he enquired politely.

The ring bearer glanced down and Legolas was surprised to see Frodo was offering him one of the cushions and doing it in such a fashion that no one else, save Sam, was aware of his actions.

Knowing pride had no place here, Legolas lifted himself free of his left leg while Sam and Frodo pushed the cushion in place, and he then eased himself downwards. He bit down on his lip as his sore bottom touched the feather pillow and then gave a sigh of relief as he realized that the pain would be bearable.

“Thank you, both of you.”

“You are very welcome,” Frodo answered with a smile.

“That you are Mister Legolas,” Sam echoed. “Now I hope you are going to do more than push that fruit round your plate, you need to keep your strength up you know.”

“And these mushroom pancakes are well worth trying,” Pippin told him, putting a couple of them onto the elf’s plate with a flourish.

The Hobbits’ chatter drowned out the dwarves’ vitriolic commentary. Their comforting presence also shielded Legolas from the more general disapproval of the others in the dining hall so that he found that he was able to eat what he thought was a reasonable meal, but what Pippin described as a ‘sparrows portion’. He was further heartened when Aragorn entered the hall and came straight across to join their table.

Having thrown a wary glance in direction of the high table, Aragorn pushed a goblet across the surface towards his friend.

“Here, I took the precaution of making some willow bark tea before I came down to breakfast. I thought you might be in need of it. I have not seen Adar so angry for a long time.”

Sipping the tea appreciatively Legolas mumbled, “Neither have I. I am grateful you and the Hobbits have at least not deserted me. Although I would not have blamed you had you done so. I know that what I did was considered by many as unforgivable, and I cannot argue with that belief. Believe me, I regretted it as soon as the words had left my mouth, but I regret it all the more now, as is only right I hasten to add. I am summoned to apologize to Lord Gloin after first meal.”

There was a sharp intake of breath from the Hobbits and from Aragorn, but it was left to Frodo to express their feelings over that pronouncement

“You will not find that easy, I think.”

Legolas snorted thinking Frodo had vastly underestimated the difficulty, but answered mildly enough, for he knew that the Hobbit meant well.

“I shall not, but it must be done if I am to retain even a shred of my tattered reputation.”

Pippin, whose attention had wandered, suddenly spoke up.

“Watch out, his nibs is coming this way.”

Legolas looked through the glass of the windows and saw Elrond rise from his place at high table. He hurried to stand as the lord of Imladris swept up through the room towards him. As he did so, Sam tugged the pillow away and pushed it under his own feet, while Pippin hastened to exchange his goblet with the one Legolas had drank the willow bark tea from.

Elrond took a moment to observe all the occupants of the table before bowing and wishing them good day.

“Good morning, Master Baggins. I am happy to see you looking so well. Samwise, Meriodoc, Master Took, good morning to you too.”

“Good morning, Lord Elrond,” the four Hobbits chorused.

“Estel,” Elrond nodded to his son.

Aragorn bowed in return.

“Good morning, Adar”

The lord of Imladris’ dark eyes swept towards him and Legolas straightened.

“If you have broken your fast, Legolas we have an appointment with Lord Gloin.”

“I am ready, Lord Elrond.”

“Excellent, then let us be on our way.”

Elrond moved away then turned back.

“Oh Estel, next time you wish to avail yourself of herbs from my personal store, please remember to write in the log. You know I like to keep plentiful supplies of all my herbs.”

Legolas saw Aragorn wince even as he answered, “Yes, Adar.”

Elrond took a step away from the table then paused again.

“Oh and Peregrin, I would prefer not to be called ‘His Nibs’ in future, if you please. Come Legolas.”

Throwing an apologetic look in the direction of the Hobbits and Estel, and mouthing ‘sorry,’ Legolas hastened after the lord of Imladris and was just in time to see the slightly satisfied smile on Elrond’s face as he heard Pippin’s squeak of dismay.

“You are fortunate in your friends.”

“I am and fully appreciative of it. They helped from kindness.”

He hesitated and then pressed on, determined his friends should not suffer the wrath of the elven lord on his account.

“I would hope they do not suffer for it…”

The master of Imladris’ voice was decidedly cool.

“They did, and I do not fault them for it.”

Suitably crushed by the withering glance Elrond spared him as he said this, Legolas fell silent and there was no more conversation until they reached the wing of the Homely House where guests were housed.

Legolas had noted that the dwarves had left the dining hall when Lord Elrond approached the table where he was sitting, and had been expecting to see them waiting about to enjoy his discomfiture as he followed Elrond towards Gloin’s chambers. He knew it was too much to hope that they would not know what was to come, even if they were unaware of what had already taken place in Elrond’s study.

He was not sure whether to be relieved or worried when they passed no one other than household staff on their journey; the nightmare scenario was that they were all waiting inside so that they could watch him squirm as he made his apologies.

He concentrated on his breathing, doing his best to find the calm centre of his being as Elrond knocked on the door and a voice called for them to come in. To his profound relief Lord Gloin was alone, sitting in a low chair by the fireplace, one foot propped up on a stool.

“Lord Elrond welcome, my apologies for not standing to greet ye,” Gloin called out. “As you can see, my old trouble has flared up this morning and I cannot put my foot to the ground.”

While Legolas hung back, Elrond moved forward into the chamber.

“I am sorry to hear that old friend.”

He placed a hand on the dwarf’s foot and muttered an evocation and Legolas saw the ease that Elrond’s healing had immediately brought Gloin. Elrond straightened and smiled.

“I will have some cordial sent up to you that may help to further relieve the pain. As you can see, I have brought someone to speak to you. Prince Legolas….”

Stern grey eyes were turned on the prince who was still hovering near the door way.

“I believe you have something you need to say to Lord Gloin…”

“Uh, yes, that is of course I…” Legolas wiped his hands down his tunic, started, stopped, and swallowed hard, his mouth was dry and it felt as if his tongue was stuck to the roof of his mouth. He coughed and began again. “I have to…that is I wish to apologise for my words last evening. My conduct was atrocious and inexcusable in one of my station. I have brought shame upon myself, upon my father and my host. The language I employed against you and the sentiments I expressed were, I realize unforgivable, and I…that is…I wish… I …I…”

His attempts at an apology were interrupted by Gloin, who asked of his host, “Does he always run on like this?”

Legolas saw Elrond’s lips twitch.

“It is not often that he is so loquacious. I believe you may take that as a sure sign of his remorse in this matter.”

“Aye, well I’ll take your word for it. Pretty words can sometimes hide true sentiment, I find. Come here lad, where I can see ye properly.”

Legolas stepped forward, doing his best not to fidget as Gloin looked him over.

“Well, ye certainly look sorry enough. I haven’t seen as miserable face as that in many a long day. I would guess from your demeanour that Lord Elrond has made his view over your conduct plain enough to you already.”

Flushing up to his ear tips at the dwarf lord’s apparent easy reading of his present discomfort, Legolas kept quiet, merely nodding mutely.

“Well, that is as it should be, I suppose and ranting and railing at ye now will serve no further purpose except to increase your ill feeling towards me and mine. I accept your apology young prince and hope that time and familiarity will help mend the opinions some of both our two races hold on each other.”

Relief at having his less than gracious apology accepted was tempered by a distinct disinclination to have anything further to do with Gloin or any other dwarves and this determination must have shown on his face, for even as he intoned, “Thank you, Lord Gloin. I am grateful,” he saw the frown growing on Elrond’s face.  The master of the Homely house seemed less than pleased with him, a suspicion that was reinforced when the lord spoke next.

“I am not sure you fully appreciate how fortunate you have been to receive such prompt forgiveness, Legolas.”

“I…I assure you I am, lord.”

“Are you?”

“Indeed.”

Anxious to escape Gloin’s rooms, Legolas began to back towards the doors.

“By your leave, Lord Gloin?”

The dwarf lord waved a hand in dismissal; Legolas had his hand on the handle when Elrond called for him to wait, and then asked where he thought he was going.

“I…I am going to the library to begin the task you have set for me,” Legolas responded. “I thought you would wish me to begin it without delay. I have made my apologies and received permission to withdraw from Lord Gloin.”

Elrond nodded.

“So you have. You have yet to receive my permission to leave, however.”

His grey eyes seemed to look deep inside Legolas’ soul and what he saw there did not impress him, it appeared.

“You have said all of the right things here today Legolas; indeed your apology was quite impressive, but I wonder if you have truly recognised that your prejudices against the children of Aûle were both unfounded and erroneous.”

 “I assure you…”

A raised hand silenced his protest.

“It is my considered opinion Legolas, that you are in need of further time spent in the company of those you have insulted so foully. So, I have a suggestion to make, if I may Lord Gloin?”

Gloin looked towards Lord Elrond with interest, Legolas in growing dismay.

“You are on your own here today, Gloin, having sent your son and the rest of your delegation out to inspect some caves Lord Erestor talked of last evening. Something which I think you did in the hope of avoiding another confrontation between the prince and your party, is that not so?”

“Aye, my son Gimli is something of a hothead and I thought it wiser to have him out of the way to let tempers cool,” Gloin answered.

“Just so, a very generous gesture on your part,” Elrond looked meaningfully in Legolas’s direction, making him shuffle his feet and look away; however Elrond’s next words made him look up in consternation.

“As part of his atonement for his conduct, I have asked Prince Legolas to write an essay on dwarfish traditions so that he may better understand and appreciate your role in Arda. My suggestion is that he does so here, where he can make himself useful to you rather than sitting in the library. You will have someone here to come to your aid, should you require anything and he will have an expert on hand to ask questions of.”

“Well now, I am not sure…” Gloin seemed uncertain.

Please, please Illuvator; do not let him agree, Legolas pleaded silently.

“He would, of course, answer to you as he would normally do to any other elder who has him in his care.”

“You really think it will help him?” Gloin asked.

“I do.”

Legolas groaned as Gloin nodded.

“Well, in that case as long as we all understand the situation we will be in, I’ll keep the lad with me…at least until noon meal.”

“Excellent!” Elrond beamed. “I will send parchment and quills up and a selection of books from the library for you Legolas. There will be a guard stationed at the end of the hallway, should you require any assistance Lord Gloin, although I am certain that Prince Legolas will conduct himself in a seemly fashion.”

The lord of Imladris’ stern countenance turning in his direction was warning enough for Legolas to know he had better do so, else he would find himself even deeper in the mire.

 “As you command, Lord Elrond” he ground out.

“Indeed I do.”

A finger was waved in his direction, “You are more fortunate than you seem to realize, Legolas. Lord Gloin is well within his rights to demand that you be sent home and I think your own father would be most irate were that to be the case. His own dealings with the dwarves of the Lonely Mountain have been held in, if not cordial, at least courteous, circumstances since the battle of the Five Armies. You would do well to emulate your sire in this.”

“Yes, Lord Elrond.”

Apparently unconvinced by this response, Elrond told Gloin, “If he causes you a moment’s ill ease my friend, by word, deed or look, he will answer for it not only to you and me, but I can assure you to King Thranduil as well.”

Having uttered this particular ‘threat,’ Elrond swept from the room, leaving Legolas alone with the dwarf lord.

Beyond the walls of Gloin’s apartments birds sang and the voices of Elrond’s household could be heard as they went about their daily tasks; inside there was an uncomfortable silence.

“Well, this will not do,” Gloin eventually spoke up. “Come and sit with me lad, so we can talk in comfort.”

Wondering if all dwarves had an evil sense of humour or if Gloin was just being particularly obtuse, Legolas mumbled that he would prefer to stand, thank you.

“That maybe, but staring up at you like this is giving me a crick in the neck.”

Legolas looked at the stool Gloin had pointed towards; it looked decidedly hard, but he eased himself downwards, nevertheless doing his best not to show the pain he felt as his abused rear touched the wood. By placing his hands on either side of him, he found he could lift himself just clear of the seat and relieve a little of the sting. Legolas cracked what he hoped approximated a smile, but feared it came out more as a grimace and looked up at the dwarven lord expectantly.

“So, tell me what you know about my people.”

While one part of him wanted desperately to reply ‘nothing’, Legolas was loathe to cast his tutors both at home and here in Imladris in a bad light. He had been well taught by both Lord Selinde and Lord Erestor and his knowledge of all the races of Arda was second to none and he knew it. So he simply began reciting as many facts and figures as he could recall from his lessons; he was about half way through when he was granted a reprieve by a knock on the door.

Leaping to his feet he hastened across the room to admit Gloin’s visitor.

“Lord Erestor to see you, Lord Gloin,” he called across to the dwarf.

“Come in, come in, Erestor. To what do I owe the honour of your presence?” Gloin inquired.

“I bring books and parchments for Legolas to make use of,” Erestor said as he entered.

Legolas looked at the thick tomes Erestor was placing on the table and wished he had not been so precipitate at answering the knock on the door.

“I also came to see how you do,” Erestor went over to sit beside the dwarf. “Elrond tells me you are unwell.”

“My old trouble. It is already easing. Lord Elrond has magic in his hands, it seems.”

“He is a healer of some considerable talent,” Erestor agreed.

“Aye and more than that I think, but I will say no more here.”

Gloin looked over to where Legolas was standing, then back at Erestor.

“I would welcome your advice on another matter, Lord Erestor, if you can spare me the time.”

Gracious as ever, Erestor nodded.

“Of course, if I can.”

“It is somewhat awkward,” the dwarf lord glanced over to Legolas again, who began to get the feeling that he was ‘the matter’ that Gloin wished to speak about, a suspicion confirmed when Erestor said “Ah,” and turned to him.

“Legolas, take the first of the books I have brought you and go out onto the balcony and peruse the opening chapter, if you please.”

Irritated at the way everyone seemed to be ordering him about today, Legolas folded his arms and asked why.

Erestor did not miss a beat.

“Or you may go and stand in the hallway until I have finished my conversation with Lord Gloin. I am sure a period of reflection with your nose pressed to the wall will act as a reminder to you of your manners.” He smiled the sort of smile that Legolas had seen on far too many occasions when Erestor had acted as his tutor as he added, “Your choice, of course.”

Which meant he had no choice at all, Legolas thought gloomily; it seemed he was doomed to suffer further public humiliation today. Giving his erstwhile teacher a petulant scowl for putting him through this additional embarrassment, Legolas lifted the heavy book into his hand and stalked toward the full length windows, the last place, well he amended, the second last place he wished to be at this time was on a balcony outside Gloin’s chambers. Here where everyone passing by could see him and revel in his misery. He opened the door and stepped outside, making a show of closing the door behind him with a decided snap. It was then that he realized that Gloin’s balcony looked out directly onto one of the waterfalls and that there was no way anyone would be able to see him here; his shoulders relaxed and he told himself to remember to apologize to Ressor for his petulance when he was called back inside. He should have known better than to think kind hearted Erestor would subject him to further public misery. He leaned back against the glass and the door swung open partially, allowing him to overhear the conversation inside.

“I know Lord Elrond was hoping that if we spent some time together the lad might begin to see that dwarves are not all bad, but he is so uncomfortable with me, that it seems cruel to keep him here.”

Legolas felt a blush run up right through to his ear tips as Erestor chuckled.

“In what way do you mean uncomfortable, Lord Gloin?”

“Well. He didn’a want to sit with me and when I made him, he kept shifting and looking away, his face was all screwed up as well, as if he found being in my presence painful to him.”

 “I do not believe that being with you is what is making him uncomfortable, Gloin. Rather it is because of Lord Elrond’s earlier attentions.”

“Lord Elrond?”

“You know that he has already dealt with Legolas for his conduct towards you last evening?”

“Aye, he told me he would take care of it and the lad was certainly chastened enough when they came to my room. That lecture must have been something to listen to, given his demeanour when he arrived.”

Legolas squirmed, wishing now that he could no longer hear the ongoing conversation as Erestor laughed.

“It was rather more than a lecture, Master Gloin. The reason for Legolas’ discomfort is that Lord Elrond took a strap to the prince’s hindquarters.”

“He was thrashed?”

The shock was genuine Legolas realized; the dwarf lord had not realized he had been physically punished, which meant that when Lord Gloin had insisted he sit, he had not done it with any malice.

“Physical chastisement is very common in elven culture Lord Gloin,” Erestor explained. “Although, the use of the strap is used only for the most severe of wrong doing. It is a testament to Lord Elrond’s feelings over the severity of the fault that he chose to punish Legolas as he did. It is more usual to use a hand or at most a paddle to bring young elves to a sense of their transgressions.”

Gloin nodded his understanding.

“Aye, and I find no fault with that for youngsters. I have made use of such a punishment with my own boy when he was younger, but I would not think of inflicting such a thing on him now he is adult.”

“That would be equally true for the elves.”

“Then why did Elrond treat yon princeling in such a fashion?” Gloin gestured towards the balcony. “He is a seasoned warrior. Even in the fastness of Erebor we have heard of the prince of Mirkwood’s skills with a bow and his commitment to the fight against the shadow.”

“Both of which views are true. Legolas is perhaps the greatest archer in Middle Earth and his commitment to the fight against Sauron is unquestionable, yet he is not yet accounted an adult by his kin. He is, at most, a young adolescent in our eyes. His expertise with weaponry and his fighting skills are unparalleled, but he has yet to reach full maturity; emotionally he is still immature and will be for many more years.”

“Elves have centuries beyond counting to mature, and their childhood years and adolescence goes on for years beyond that, which, for some mortal races, would exceed their full lifespan. You know of course, of the doom of the Eldar, condemned to live until the ending of all things, until eventually we stop wishing to live and begin to desire, if not death, at least an escape from the burdens of this world. Legolas is not yet of an age where that desire has been awoken within him. He still has a love of life, an interest in the world around him, an innocence, if you like.  It is what makes him different from those of us who have lived through three or more ages of this world. To us he is a child and like any child he occasionally needs to be reminded of the differences between right and wrong.”

“Aye but…”

“If I might just explain further. Our memories remain with us for all time, good and bad. There is no lessening of grief, no freedom of forgetfulness for wrongdoings or weakness; if we are unable to unburden ourselves of our mistakes, our errors of judgement, we can sink into despair. For our young ones that is a particular concern. Their emotions are less controlled more volatile. If we were to allow them to wallow in feelings of guilt, it might destroy them. Physical punishment, while seeming harsh, is swift and gives release of those feelings of guilt, shame, and remorse. Comfort and forgiveness in the aftermath of chastisement completes the process. Our elflings know they are loved and forgiven; there is no further recrimination, which then frees them to move forward without the shadow of their misconduct threatening to overwhelm them. Our love for our young is absolute Lord Gloin. What we do we do from love, not from a desire to be cruel or to debase those in our care. Legolas knows that once he has completed his penance, then the matter is closed and can be, if not forgotten, at least put to the back of his memory, only to be revisited should he ever consider speaking out of turn so spectacularly as he did last night.”

“Well, well, I give thanks to Aûle that I am no elf,” Gloin chuckled. “I had not thought of it before, but having children that take several hundred years or so to ‘grow up’ is enough to make anyone’s beard turn white. And if it works, then who am I to question it? I don’t doubt I might make use of such a punishment myself, if I had to take a flighty young piece like the prince into my care. Thankee Lord Erestor, you have set my mind at ease, aye and taught me something new as well. Well, I will persevere with the prince and see if we can’t at least come to a more comfortable understanding of each other. For if he should be the one chosen to accompany the ring bearer on his journey south, I would like to think that he will at least remember that not all dwarves are his enemies.”

On the balcony Legolas remained frozen; he could feel the heat of a blush running from his toes to the top of his head as Erestor and Gloin ‘discussed’ him and the reasons behind Lord Elrond’s actions. While all he had heard was truth, the idea of anyone other than an elf knowing about his youth and immaturity made him squirm. No doubt the fact that he was little more than a child would soon be common knowledge; why would Lord Gloin keep such information to himself? If that oaf Gimli ever got to hear of it, he would laugh himself silly and then make Legolas’s life a misery and what made it worse was that he had only himself to blame for it!

“Legolas,” Erestor’s voice broke into his unhappy thoughts. “You may come back in now.”

Do I have to? Legolas mourned internally, even while he stepped into Gloin’s chambers; for he was a pragmatist and he could hardly spend the rest of the day on the balcony or even vault over the balustrade, dive into the river and disappear into the gardens beyond the waterfalls, even though that seemed like a very good choice round about now.

The elf lord looked at the volume Legolas was still holding.

“I trust you found the first chapter of interest, Penneth?”

Knowing he had not even opened the volume Legolas stammered, “Oh…Um…Yes… fascinating!”

He felt himself flush as Erestor raised an eyebrow at him and commented acerbically, “You may well find it even more fascinating when you read it the correct way up.” 

Before he could come up with a response to this the elf lord had turned to Gloin.

“I must go, Lord Gloin, but I will return before the noon meal to see how you are doing. Behave yourself Thranduilion,” he exhorted Legolas; then he leaned forward and kissed his brow, and added in a voice only Legolas could hear, “Put aside your pride, open your mind and make me proud, as I know you can.”

Blushing, this time in pleasure, Legolas promised he would do his best and then found himself once more alone with Lord Gloin. Uncomfortable as he was with the situation, Legolas made himself turn and ask if there was anything the dwarf needed.

“I could do with a cup of tea,” Gloin responded promptly. “Will you do the honours, lad?”

Happy to be busy, Legolas filled the little copper kettle from the jug provided, then hung the kettle on the hook of over the fire so that the water could come to the boil, while he set out cups and an elegant china pot.

 “That’s more like it.” Gloin drained his first cup and held it out for a refill.

“Are ye not having one, laddie?”

Legolas ducked his head. “I was uncertain if you would wish me to partake of anything Lord Gloin.”

“Eh, why ever would I do that?”

“I am here to be punished.”

“Ye have been more than punished enough, if ye were to ask my opinion, “ Gloin growled. “Get yourself a drink, aye and get some cushions and pillows so you can make yourself more comfortable. I would never have asked ye to sit on that stool if I had known you were suffering from a sore backside. No need to blush lad, we are none of us so old we can’t recall circumstances like your own, I have to say though that even tho’ Erestor has explained things to me, I would sooner ye had not been thrashed on my account.”

Surprised, Legolas mumbled sheepishly, “My punishment was well justified Lord Gloin, I assure you.”

“Maybe, but I think it is hardly likely to endear you to me and mine. Still, we are both stuck with it and we can’t change what has happened, only go on from there, so we’d best make the best of the morning. Get us both another cup of tea and come and sit beside me. We can have a look at that book Lord Erestor was so keen on you reading. If it was written by the elves, it’s bound to contain all sorts of errors.”

Legolas opened his mouth to refute this charge, but then realised that the dwarf lord’s dark eyes were twinkling and that he was clearly only teasing. Instead he handed over the book, and fetched cushions and tea before settling next to Gloin’s chair as the old dwarf opened the first page and exclaimed, “Ah, now that is a very good likeness of Durin. He was the eldest and most renowned of the seven fathers of the dwarves you know. What can you tell me about him?”

xxxxxxx

“We spent well over an hour poring over that book, and I have to admit that I quite enjoyed having someone like Lord Gloin there to explain things to me. He opened my eyes to many things that morning and made me all the more ashamed that I had treated him so poorly in the first place.”

He glanced over to where Gimli sat.

“It was just a pity that I did not realize, somewhat sooner, that his son was more alike to him than I gave him credit for. It would have made for a much quieter journey, and there would have been much less animosity between us.”

Legolas laughed somewhat self-consciously, while the rest of the Fellowship chuckled, when Pippin piped up in response.

“Aye that might have been so, but think how boring it would have been!”

“Did you spend any more time with Lord Gloin?” Faramir asked.

Legolas shook his head.

“Much to my regret no. Once my day with Lord Gloin was over, Lord Elrond made it clear that should I be the cause any further discord amongst his guests; I would be sent home in disgrace. So I judged it best to stay away from the dwarven delegation as much as possible, in case I was tempted to get my own back on Gimli who I thought had insulted my Adar. In fact, as I found out later, he was not the one who had called Ada the Magpie, so I was doubly in the wrong. I did not see Gimli’s father again until the morning of his departure when he called me to his room. He offered me his blessing and wished me well, for he knew then that I was soon to be a member of the quest.”

An impish grin appeared as he added, “he also told me that Gimli’s bark was worse than his bite and that I should look beyond the bluster and gruffness of his son to the good heartedness beneath. He gave me a token as well.”

Legolas fished into the small belt pouch and pulled out a half coin.

“He said he was sure that I would one day find the companion piece to it and if I did, I would understand its importance. He told me that the runes etched upon it signalled friendship, loyalty and a desire for better understanding between the races of Arda.”

“Well the crafty old devil!”

Gimli fished about in his own belt pouch before triumphantly holding up another half coin which, when he and Legolas put their pieces together, formed one whole coin.

As everyone else crowded round exclaiming, dwarf and elf exchanged looks.

“Father told me I should look beneath your flighty exterior and see the pure light within. Gave me the other half of this medallion and said when I found its companion piece, I would find also a companion in arms and friendship the like of which Arda had not long seen. He knew all that, all that time ago and yet he left it to us to find out for ourselves how much alike we were; aye and how much stronger too when we combine our strength.”

“And he was right to do so,” Aragorn placed a hand on the shoulders of both elf and dwarf. “Lord Gloin obviously saw, before any of us, of the friendship that could develop between you once you had both let go of your pre-conceived prejudices; but he also knew that with your stubborn headedness, there was no point in trying to get the pair of you to see it. He left you to come to the same conclusion, which eventually you did, thank Eru for that. Singly you are formidable, together you are unbeatable.”

“Aye, the only pity is it took them so long to realize it,” Pippin put in and then found himself pounced on by both dwarf and elf.

“Oi…hey…Merry…help me!” he called out as Legolas and Gimli carried him off to the fountain in the centre of the garden.

“Oh no Pip, I’m not getting between this pair. You heard what Aragorn said…they are unbeatable when they are together.”

There was a loud splash and much laughter as Legolas and Gimli returned, brushing their hands together with very satisfied smiles on their faces. A dripping wet Hobbit was following on behind, grumbling about how much better it was when elf and dwarf were at each other throats, and how he wished Lord Gloin had kept quiet about their likely affinity, although all present knew that Pippin did not mean it.

For the friendship of elf and dwarf was already renowned and in the years to come, as Arda moved into the Fourth Age, it became even more celebrated as the great friendship of Gimli son of Gloin and Legolas son of Thranduil turned from songs and stories into legend and beyond.

 

The End

 

 

 

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> There are two epilogues to this story which I will post if people are interested to read them
> 
> And for more stories like this go and join 
> 
> http://groups.yahoo.com/group/TheLeaflingChronicles/


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